The World's Biggest Bogey

by Steve Hartley

  I hope you can sit down now. If not, why don’t you try to break one of the silliest world records in the Great Big Book, and one of my favourites: Leaning Casually Against a Goalpost While Dressed as a Ponsonby Pork Pie (two years, five months, sixteen days, nine hours, five minutes, and fifty–nine seconds)?

  Congratulations on winning the league and good luck in the Cup Final, Danny. You must be very proud to be the son of Bobby Baker. He was a great player.

  Best wishes

  Eric Bibby

  Keeper of the Records

  Danny and Matthew sat on the kerb outside Danny’s house, reading Mr Bibby’s letter.

  ‘You can’t try for the Leaning Casually Against a Goalpost While Dressed as a Ponsonby Pork Pie world record,’ complained Matthew. ‘You wouldn’t be able to dive on the ground to save a shot, and we’d lose every match.’

  Danny sighed. ‘I know. It’s tempting though.’

  ‘You can’t, Danny,’ pleaded Matthew. ‘At least, don’t attempt it next Saturday – it’s the Cup Final and Hogton Growlers are a really good side.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Danny. ‘I want to win the Cup as much as anyone.’

  At that moment, he saw his sister heading towards them, and she didn’t look happy.

  ‘You’re fish food, Matthew Mason!’ shrieked Natalie. She stormed down the street, her face as red as a ripe tomato with sunburn. ‘I’ve got two-weeks’ detention because of you!’

  Matthew looked puzzled. ‘Did I get your maths homework wrong?’

  ‘No, you dope!’ yelled Natalie. ‘You got it right!’

  ‘Er . . . that’s good, isn’t it?’ suggested Matthew.

  ‘No, it’s not!’ shouted Natalie. ‘It was too right. My maths teacher knew I hadn’t done it! Next time you do my homework, get a couple wrong!’ She stomped into the house and slammed the front door shut.

  Danny looked like he had just got the best birthday present ever.

  Matthew looked like a bad smell had just gone up his nose.

  It had.

  He sniffed the air. ‘Can you smell gas?’ he asked.

  ‘Can you?’ asked Danny.

  ‘Yeah. I can smell something really rotten, like boiled cabbage and seaweed and eggs and cheese and drains all mixed together.’

  Matthew looked around him, trying to find where the awful pong was coming from. His gaze stopped at Danny’s feet.

  ‘It can’t be,’ he said.

  ‘It is!’ said Danny. ‘They’re ready!’

  ‘When are you going to let them out?’ ‘On Monday in assembly. Take my advice: put a peg on your nose.’

  Pong

  Dear Mr Bibby

  This must be a record! To get myself ready for this attempt, I’ve been wearing the same pair of socks and shoes every minute of the day and night for the last few months (except when I played football, then I put football socks over the ordinary ones and wore my football boots).

  Yesterday I finally took off my shoes during morning assembly. In just under ten seconds, 201 children, five teachers and Mr Rogers the headmaster were unconscious. Nine children and one teacher escaped the pong, because they had very bad colds and their noses were full of snot. My best friend, Matthew Mason, was all right, because I told him to put a peg on his nose. I did the same.

  The teacher who escaped called 999. Firefighters in protective suits and breathing masks tried to pull m socks off, but they couldn’t do it. They took me to hospital, where my socks were cut away with special surgical scissors. Two doctors and a nurse passed out. This makes a total of 210 people who were knocked out by my smelly feet.

  Thirty-three of the children who smelt my feet are still in hospital. The school still stinks of boiled cabbage and seaweed and eggs and cheese and drains all mixed together. My feet look like two pizzas on the end of my legs, and they smell a bit like pizzas too!

  I really hope this is a record, because I am in Very Big Trouble. The whole football team’s out of action, except for me and Matthew, and it’s the Cup Final on Saturday. So we’re going to have to play Hogton Growlers with the nine snotty children who survived my feet. Six of the survivors are girls, none of them even likes football, never mind plays it, and all nine have colds! Four of my new teammates are in Year 1! To top it all, my feet are so sore I can’t move properly. We’re going to get slaughtered.

  Do I have the Smelliest Feet in the world? Please say I do, then at least it will have all been worth it.

  Yours sincerely

  Danny Baker

  PS Here is a photograph of me being taken out of school by the firemen.

  Dear Danny

  What a fantastic effort! I have checked our records and you are almost a record breaker, but not quite.

  The world record for the Smelliest Feet belongs to Wilma Wallace of Wagga Wagga, Australia. In December 1987, after a long day of Christmas shopping in a shopping mall in Sydney, she kicked off her shoes in the food hall. 217 people were gassed and had to be taken to hospital. This only just beats the 210 people affected by your feet. Unfortunately, Wilma was not actually trying to break the world record so had not taken the precautions you had. She did not put a peg on her nose. Sadly, Wilma was killed by her own feet. She was buried in a lead–lined coffin. To this day, no grass or flowers will grow on her grave, because her feet still pollute the soil.

  This terrible story goes to show, once again, how careful you must be when you try to break a world record.

  I hope the Cup Final goes better than you expect it to. If not, remember that it could be worse: just think of Wilma Wallace of Wagga Wagga!

  Good luck

  Eric Bibby

  Keeper of the Records

  Danny was more fed up than he had ever been in his life. It was the morning of the Final, and he was sat in the kitchen swishing his feet in a bowl of warm water.

  Matthew knocked on the back door. ‘Is it all right to come in?’ he asked, glancing warily at Danny’s feet.

  ‘Yeah, they still whiff a bit, but they’re not dangerous any more,’ replied Danny. ‘And we don’t have to wear pegs on our noses.’

  ‘How do they feel?’ asked Matthew.

  ‘Not bad,’ replied Danny. He lifted his feet out of the bowl and began to dab them gently them with a towel. ‘I have to bathe them three times a day, but they’re still sore. The water in the bowl hasn’t gone green for the last two days, and the nurse says that’s a good sign. I’m not sure though. I left the bowl in the garden yesterday. Two sparrows took a bath in it and all their tail feathers dropped off!’

  ‘Will you be all right to play today?’

  Danny sighed. ‘I have to, Matt, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to get through the whole game.’

  Just then they heard Natalie clomping down the stairs.

  ‘Quick,’ whispered Danny, ‘Nat’s coming. Put the peg on your nose.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Matthew as he grabbed a wooden clothes peg from the kitchen table, and pinched it on to the end of his nose.

  ‘Because I haven’t let on that she doesn’t need it any more,’ answered Danny, picking up a peg. ‘It’s too much fun listening to her speak. And when she eats – gross!’

  Natalie stomped into the kitchen to get her breakfast, and glared at the boys, but with the peg on her nose, she just looked silly, not scary.

  Danny and Matthew giggled.

  ‘Bot’s so fuddy?’ growled Natalie. She slammed the fridge door shut, and flounced out of the kitchen with her bowl of cornflakes.

  The boys collapsed in a fit of laughter.

  Outside in the car, Dad sounded the horn to hurry them up.

  ‘Time to go,’ said Danny.

  In the changing room at Penleydale Town FC, Danny pulled his football boots carefully over his sore feet and laced them up. ‘Owww,’ he moaned as pain shot through his swollen, tender toes.

  The referee opened the door and shouted, ‘Teams out on the field, please.’

  Danny and Matthew looked at their em
ergency teammates. The six girls came out from behind a screen at one end of the room, where they had been getting changed. They were giggling.

  ‘These boots are great for tap-dancing,’ said Emily Barnes, starting to do a routine in front of the showers.

  ‘They’re not taking this seriously, are they?’ complained Matthew.

  Three of the five-year-olds were kicking a ball to each other. They kept taking huge swings at the ball and missing by a mile.

  Danny’s shoulders sagged and he frowned at Matthew. ‘We don’t stand a chance. This is all my fault.’

  ‘You never know, one of the girls might turn out to be the new Pelé,’ said Matthew hopefully.

  Danny sat down dejectedly on a bench, his head bowed. ‘Yeah, right.’

  Matthew put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. ‘There’s always next season.’

  The Sparrows lined up in the tunnel next to the Hogton Growlers team. Hogton were a big side. They looked at Danny and Matthew, and then at the girls, and then at the little ones at the back, and then burst out laughing.

  ‘They should just give us the cup now and save time,’ chuckled the Hogton captain.

  This is going to be the longest hour of my life, thought Danny.

  He hobbled on to the pitch, took up his position in goal and got ready to start the game.

  What a Save!

  Hogton kicked off, and in three passes were in Danny’s penalty area. The big striker, Wayne Mooney, blasted a fierce shot towards the top corner of the goal. Danny’s smelly feet screamed in agony as he pushed off the ground, but he managed to get his fingertips to the ball and push it over the crossbar.

  ‘Great save, Danny!’ shouted Matthew.

  From the corner, David Peckham headed the ball down to Danny’s left. Danny dropped, and held the ball on the line. The crowd cheered another great save.

  The first half went on in exactly the same way: the Growlers attacking, and Danny making save after save to keep them out. The Hogton goalkeeper didn’t touch the ball once in the whole first half.

  The referee blew the whistle for half-time. Nil-nil!

  Danny got into the changing room and almost collapsed into his seat. He was exhausted.

  ‘Did we win?’ asked Amy Johnson.

  Matthew ignored her. ‘Right, Danny, here’s the plan. If you carry on saving everything in the second half, then I’d say there’s about a sixteen per cent chance we can win the match on penalties.’

  Danny’s toxic toes throbbed with pain.

  ‘I can’t, Matt. I can’t do that again.’

  Just then there was a knock at the changing-room door and Danny’s dad came in. ‘How are your feet?’ he asked.

  ‘Terrible,’ replied Danny. ‘I don’t think I’m going to be much use in the second half.’

  ‘Well, whatever happens, I just wanted you to know that your performance in the first half was the best I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Danny, you were fantastic – I couldn’t have saved some of those shots. I’m really proud of you.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Danny didn’t feel the pain in his feet when he walked back out on to the field. He could have been walking on feathers.

  It’s All Over . . .

  In the second half, there was nothing Mooney, Ronald-Howe and Peckham could do to beat Danny. But with one minute to go, Wayne Mooney, the Growlers’ big striker, got through the defence once more.

  Danny moved out to meet him.

  The lad had tried to dribble round Danny five times already in the game, but every time Danny had dived bravely at his feet, and picked the ball off his toe. This time Wayne lifted his right foot and blasted the ball towards the goal.

  It fizzed past Danny and was heading for the top corner when he somehow arched backwards and managed to touch the ball wide of the post for a corner.

  The crowd jumped to their feet and roared and clapped this save, the best one of all. Wayne held his head in his hands.

  Danny got up and ran to his goal.

  ‘Come on!’ he shouted. ‘Everyone back!’

  The Growlers’ coach screamed at his goalkeeper to go up for the corner, and as the winger took the kick, every other player crowded into Coalclough’s penalty area, jostling for position.

  It was a good corner kick, arching high and fast into the centre of the area. Danny made his decision and charged off his line, as the Hogton goalkeeper raced forward and leaped high to head the ball. Danny dived and stretched and pulled the ball out of the air with both hands. The Hogton keeper headed nothing, and fell to the ground in a heap. Danny landed on his feet, clutching the ball tightly to his chest.

  Once again the crowd cheered.

  ‘Danny! Shoot!’ yelled Matthew.

  What’s he talking about? thought Danny.

  And then he saw it: the empty Hogton goal!

  Danny took two steps towards the edge of his penalty area, and with the last bit of strength left in his exhausted legs, punted the ball down the pitch as hard and as high and as straight as he could.

  ‘Owwwww!’ His feet had finally had enough. Pain burst up his legs and he collapsed on the grass.

  For a moment the whole stadium fell silent. Everyone held their breath. All eyes followed the ball as it looped up high over the halfway line, and then began to fall slowly back to earth. It bounced about fifteen metres inside the Hogton half.

  Four of the Growlers team began to race as fast as they could up the field.

  The referee chased up the field too, glancing at his stopwatch as the seconds ticked down to the final whistle.

  With each bounce the ball got lower and slower, and the four defenders got closer. When it crossed into the Hogton penalty area it was rolling, and they were gaining on it quickly.

  The ball trickled over the six-yard line.

  The referee looked at his watch again and put the whistle to his lips.

  ‘It’s not going to make it,’ groaned Danny.

  The ball dribbled a metre, then half a metre from the line.

  One of the Hogton players was nearly there. He lunged desperately, sliding across the grass towards the ball as it reached the goal line. Danny saw him kick the ball clear, and at the same moment the referee blew his whistle for the end of the game.

  The Coalclough supporters shouted, ‘GOAL!’

  The Hogton supporters yelled, ‘NO GOAL!’

  ‘Look!’ said Danny, pointing down the pitch. The referee was shaking his head and pointing to his watch. ‘It didn’t make it.’

  ‘We can still win on penalties,’ said Matthew.

  Danny groaned quietly. Exhaustion and disappointment rolled over him like a wave. He fell back on the ground and closed his eyes. He had nothing left. He didn’t even think he could stand up any more, never mind save five penalties.

  Danny just wanted to go to sleep. The howling, bellowing crowd seemed to be a long way away down a deep, dark tunnel.

  Suddenly, Danny was being lifted off the ground. He struggled to open his eyes, expecting to see the Coalclough Sparrows’ trainers putting him on a stretcher, but there were no trainers and there was no stretcher. He was being carried by people from the crowd, and they were smiling and cheering.

  Matthew pushed through the crush of legs and bodies.

  ‘What’s going on, Matt?’ whispered Danny.

  ‘It was a goal!’ cried his friend. ‘Someone took a video of it and showed the referee. Their player cleared it after it crossed the line, and before the ref blew the whistle!’

  ‘What?’ Danny was groggy and confused.

  ‘WE’VE WON THE CUP!’ screamed Matthew.

  Two of the Coalclough fans lifted Danny on to their shoulders, and the crowd roared. As they carried him around the pitch, people slapped him on the back and clapped and cheered. Even the girls in the team were dancing with excitement.

  ‘Now have we won?’ asked Amy Johnson.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ answered Gracie Green.
‘I think so.’

  As the throng of people reached the stand, Danny looked for his mum and dad.

  He saw them hugging each other and jumping up and down. Mum blew Danny a kiss and Dad punched the air.

  And there, on a small table on the pitch in front of the stand, glinting in the sunlight, was the Penleydale Schools Cup.

  ‘Ace!’ cried Danny.

  ‘Cool,’ agreed Matthew.

  Danny Baker – Record Breaker

  Dear Mr Bibby

  I believe you know my son, Danny Baker. He tells me that he has written to you several times about his world-record attempts.

  Yesterday, Danny won He Penleydale Schoo Cup single-handedly. I made a video of the game and have enclosed a copy with this letter. During the game Danny made eighty-seven saves that would have been goals for Hogton Growlers, the opposition team. Is this a record?

  Yours sincerely

  Robert Baker